Werewolf: The First Chronicle
by Dominic Guiliano
Summary: The very first Logan and Beast story. Based on characters myself and my friends created while playing Werewolf:The Apocalypse


****************DISCLAIMER********************  
This story is based on characters myself and my friends created while playing Vampire and Warewolf over the past 4 years. This story is incredibly long, and I will be adding to it as I find the time to further the story. It contains small crossovers into Dungeons and Dragons, but nothing truly major. The characters belong to me and my friends, but the world they are based in do not. Please R&R.  
  
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It had been a long day.  
  
Two business deals he was sure were going to work had completely fallen through. There went some 200 million dollars he could have used to. . .well, for something. Being a multi-billionaire was satisfying, but it was the challenge that drove him. Logan cared very little for the actual money itself. It was the challenge of turning no money into some money that drove him. Whether it was 200 thousand or 200 million wasn't the issue.  
  
He sighed and sat back in the leather seat. He surveyed the inside of his new limo, taking in all the glitz and glory he had created. This limousine was something he had earned, piece by piece. He popped open the mini-fridge and pulled out a pre-mixed Jack and coke. He flipped the TV on and sipped away.  
  
  
  
  
It had been a long day.  
  
First there was the whole deal about having to actually be polite long enough to someone else to get them to do something for him. It was only a hundred thousand bucks, after all. Those gansters didn't even need all that fucking money. They were just being assholes.  
  
Then the briefcase got stolen.  
  
Well, that just fucking sucked.  
  
So now, here he was, about to be shot by some little dicknose and his butt fuck friends.  
  
"Come on, then pussy, shoot me! Too scared? You're a bitch!"  
  
The man regarded him with disgust, "We're not going to shoot you in the middle of a park. We aren't stupid."  
  
Beast laughed at the little human, "Yeah, sure. Pussy."  
  
The italian's brow furrowed, "Stop being so disrespectful, Kurt."  
  
Beast's anger rose, "It's Beast, pencil-dick. Only my friends and my bitches call me Kurt, and you are definitely not my friend."  
  
"All right, that's it," the man pulled his gun out, "I am gonna shoot this bastard here. Johnny, get away from him."  
  
The man standing behind Beast stepped away. The gun was raised, level with his forehead. Beast snarled.  
  
  
  
  
"-is another big boost to Microtech's stocks. The comapny's CEO, Logan Silverbane, is scheduled to make a speech regarding the earnings growth tomorrow afternoon at a press conference. For more we go to our man in Seattle, Jackson Spi-"  
  
Logan turned the TV off, and looked back out the window. What he saw surprised him. An italian about 5'8' was about to shoot a man who had to be about 6'8". Logan yelled at his driver to stop and jumped out.  
  
"Hey! Hey! What's going on here?"  
  
The italian looked over, the gun still dead-on with the taller man's face. He looked Logan up and down, then snorted and turned back.  
  
"Unless you got a hundred thousand bucks on you, leave. Kurt here owes us."  
  
There was a not-quite-roar from Logan's left, and he turned to see the tall man's eyes boring into the short man before him, "I told you to call me Beast, fuck-nut."  
  
"Suck my dick," the italian pulled back the hammer on the 9 millimeter.  
  
"I'll pay the money."  
  
Suddenly, everyone was looking at Logan. Beast sniffed for a moment, then his eyes widened.  
  
The italian looked at Logan again, "You got 30 seconds."  
  
Logan shrugged and removed his checkbook from his jacket pocket.  
  
"Who should I make it out to?"  
  
The italian man grinned, "Luciano Enterprises."  
  
Logan cursed under his breath. Well, maybe Beast knew the man's name. He tore the check from the checkbook and handed it to the italian man.  
  
He read it over carefully, then gave Logan another grin, "Nice doing business with you."  
  
"Sure, whatever. Come on, Beast." Logan turned and began walking back to his limo.  
  
Beast gave the italian the coldest stare he could, but followed dutifully behind Logan.  
  
Logan opened the door for Beast and let him get in first. He sat across from him and regarded him thoughtfully. Beast was easily one of the largest men he had ever seen. His arms were like tree trunks. His muscles bulged through the t-shirt he wore. His crystal blue eyes blazed with cold fire. Logan had finally found the one person he couldn't stare down. And it intrigued him.  
  
"What tribe are you, Beast?"  
  
If Beast was surprised by his forwardness, it didn't show, "Get. You?"  
  
"Silverfang. You're hired as my bodyguard. I'll let you go when I feel you've repaid your debt."  
  
Beast sat up, his back straight, his head pressed against the roof. His germanic accent suddenly very thick, "You've saved my life. That will be a debt that is hard to repay."  
  
Logan nodded, "Then you must find a way. Where do you live?"  
  
Beast shrugged, "That's why I borrowed the money. I have nothing but the clothes I am wearing."  
  
Logan raised his eyebrows it surprise, "Then you can live with me." He pressed the buton that lowered the screen between the backseat and the driver's seat, "Barry, take us downtown. We're going shopping for clothes." 


End file.
